


Breathing

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, First Times, M/M, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:00:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes life overwhelms us to the point that all we can do is remember to breathe. Jim and Blair find themselves having to do exactly that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathing

## Breathing

#### by Lady Crimsyn

  
Boys not mine. I just borrow them from time to time when the muse moves me.   
An incredible writer named Justine (with Kelyn) wrote this fantastic massively angsty piece called 'To Withstand the World.' First, I read it and was amazed at how I held my breath for the outcome. Then, I finished it and actually felt a lump in my throat and heaviness in my heart. I re-read the last part at least half a dozen times and was thusly inspired to write my very first slash piece, so please go easy on me. Feedback appreciated.  
h/c, angst, smarm, and as usual a bit of colorful language.  


* * *

Fear is the tax that conscience pays to guilt. 

Funny little saying, isn't it? I can't even remember where the hell I heard it, but I can tell you this: I have become intimately familiar with it. 

In life, decisions must be made. However, in this case, the decision wasn't mine. 

He left today. My Blair. I know what you're thinking. If he left, how could he possibly be mine? 

Answer. Faith. To tell you the truth, my faith is strong, but I worry that my fear is stronger. 

I'm not explaining this very well. You see, I'm a repressed aging cop with, let's be honest here, a speech impediment. I don't stutter or slur, my impediment is much more deeply rooted than that. I just don't talk at all. It's not that I can't, I just won't. 

But talking hardly matters now, because, well...he's gone. 

* * *

'If I'm gone they'll know... come on, soldier. Pull it together...Fall apart later. Right now it's about the job,' he sighed, checking the scope one last time. 

The static crackling through his earpiece caused him to grate his teeth loudly. 

"Take the shot, Ellison," Simon ordered through the comm. line, his voice hissing in a static ocean. 

Inhaling deeply, Jim closed his eyes and pulled the trigger, not even flinching against the pain of the weapon's recoil. "Perps 2 and 3 are down, sir. Area is secure," Jim reported as he saw the SWAT sniper take out perp number 1. 

Jim fingered the safety on the weapon, then tossed it to a uniform standing beside him, just as Simon entered the roof. 

"I'm going home, Simon. My head is killing me," Jim complained, rubbing his forehead unmercifully. 

Simon scowled at his friend's appearance. "Another headache, Jim? That makes three this week. Get the kid to figure out what's wrong with you and fix it," he ordered, placing his cigar firmly between his teeth. 

"I'm not a toaster, Simon. Maybe I'm just fucking tired," he snapped before apologizing for his brusque comments and excusing himself. 

Jim got in the truck and started for home, his vision swimming dangerously. Pulling the truck over, he hailed a cab and made it to the loft in time to lose what little he'd eaten for lunch. 

Standing up slowly, using the toilet for balance, he made his way to the sink. "You look like shit, Ellison," he scowled at the reflection in the mirror, before brushing his teeth and rinsing his mouth of bile. 

"Just remember to breathe, soldier. It's all about breathing," Jim reminded his reflection before turning out the light and collapsing on the couch once again. 

* * *

Jim scrubbed his face angrily as he attempted to dislodge the thoughts of Blair from his head. Walking off the elevator onto the 6th floor had been a hell of a lot harder than he thought it would be. 

Tossing his jacket on the hook, he pulled out his chair and dropped into it wearily. 

"Long night, Ellison?" Rafe joked, as he sat down on the older detective's files. 

Jim sighed heavily, lifted his steel blue eyes, and gave his best Ellison glare. "Don't you have anyone else to piss off?" he growled, his jaw tightening fractionally. 

Rafe chuckled , "Nope, got nowhere else to be. Nowhere at all..." He faded out, grinning mischievously. 

Jim's eyes narrowed as he counted all the ways to kill Rafe with his bare hands. At about number 53, he was interrupted by H calling across the room, "Rafe, we gotta get downtown, got another murder." 

Amusement tingeing his tense features, Jim shooed him from his desk. 

"Hey, Ellison," H rang out as he hit the double doors to Major Crime. "Say hi to Hairboy and tell him to get his ass back in here!" 

Jim flinched and the smile returned at the pair never reached his eyes. "Will do," he replied evenly, silently gasping for breath as his heart shattered. 

Whispering beneath his breath, he began his mantra, "Breathe...breathe...gotta breathe..." After several seconds, he realized it wasn't working. Bounding up from his desk, he dashed down the hall into the men's room, unaware that he was being shadowed by his Captain and friend. 

Simon entered the men's room, his pace quickened by the perceived desperation of his most stoic detective. He knocked tentatively on the stall door. "Jim?" 

The retching coming from within the stall was followed by a small groan. "Jim, you okay?" 

"Give me a minute," Jim responded, his voice scratchy from the abuse his stomach wrought on his system. 

Several minutes later, a pale and shaky Sentinel stumbled from the stall to the sink and began rinsing his mouth copiously. He startled as a hand gently gripped his shoulder. 

"Jim, what's going on?" Simon interrogated in command tones. 

Jim shook his head. "Nothing much, Simon. I'm just not feeling very well. It'll pass." 

Simon's concern turned to anger. "Don't feed me that bull shit, Ellison. I'm a detective remember?" he growled, before continuing on. "This is how I see it. You're falling apart. On the job, you've been lethargic and don't think you've fooled me for a second. I know about the headaches, Jim," he accused, his eyes narrowing to really observe his detective. 

Jim inhaled to reply, before Simon cut him off. "If you're going to blow sunshine up my ass, save it! I want to know where the hell Sandburg is. I know the kid is real busy, but Jim, we haven't seen him in three months. Listen up. Grab your shit. I'm taking you back to the loft and I want to know what the hell's going on!" His tone left no room for argument. 

"Yes, sir," Jim responded despondently as he moved to follow orders. 

At his desk, Jim slyly palmed a small brown bottle of pills and shoved them into his jacket pocket just as Simon came from the office. 

"Let's go," Simon ordered, gently shoving the Sentinel out the door. 

* * *

"You want a beer?" Jim asked as he opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. 

Simon looked up, his eyes questioning. "Do I need one?" He asked with a humorless chuckle. 

"Probably," Jim retorted dryly, handing over the beer as he took his place in the overstuffed chair. 

Simon shook his head and mumbled several colorful expletives under his breath. 

After long moments of staring each other down, Simon had had enough. "Okay, Jim. What the hell's going on with you? I mean no offense but you look like shit and it couldn't hurt to shave that mangy beard or at least trim the damn thing." 

"Yeah, sorry sir," Jim started, before Simon called him an ass and reminded him that as his friend, he should call him Simon. 

Jim contemplated before deciding where to start. 

"Just start at the beginning, Jim. What's going on?" Simon asked gently placing a reassuring hand on the other man's shoulder. 

Jim looked out the balcony windows before whispering, his voice and heart breaking "he left me, Simon." 

"Shit, Jim. What do you mean he left you? Sandburg would never fucking leave you," the older captain reassured his quiet friend. 

"Three months ago, we were talking in this very room. He was sitting where you are now," he paused with a small smile tugging at his lips. "when he could sit still. Anyway, things were falling apart and I didn't know how to stop it. I just couldn't wrap my fucking head around it. We talked about trust and mistakes and love. Jesus, Simon, it was the most we'd said to each other in such a long time," Jim relayed, his voice soft and trembling with intense emotion. 

Simon nodded for him to continue. 

"He asked me if I trusted him," Jim strained, his watery blue eyes raising to meet Simon's before darting away embarrassed. 

"Trusting him meant that I knew if he left, he would come back. I don't know when, Simon, but I know he'll come," Jim confided, tears trying to escape his iron control. 

Simon looked away sadly for but a moment before turning to ask. "Do you know where he is? Have you talked to him?" 

The look on Jim's face was answer enough for him. 

Simon sighed heavily. "Well, Jim, I know this isn't what you want to hear, but you can't just sit here in the loft pining away for him." 

"Fuck...Damnit, Simon, you don't seem to fucking get it. My Guide, the one person in this world that holds the key to my fucking sanity is out there..." he spat as he swung his arm angrily toward the balcony doors and leapt from the sofa to begin pacing. "I can't protect him like this. The one damn instinct screaming at me every second of every damned day is to protect him and I can't," he choked out heading back toward the balcony doors. 

He stopped to look out, unknowingly stretching his senses out to look for the one sound that wouldn't be there and was startled when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. 

"Jim," the hand shook him. "Jim, don't you zone on me," Simon warned before shaking, then squeezing the tense shoulder in front of him. 

Jim shook his head dissipating the magical spell woven by the near zone. "Sorry, Simon," he mumbled before heading back to the kitchen for some water. 

"You wanna stay for dinner?" Jim asked as he robotically opened the fridge and started to pull out ingredients. 

Simon's startled glance made him smile. "Blair made some new house rules before he left," he explained with a chuckle. "I have to eat something resembling a meal everyday. He even threatened to draw up a contract to make sure I take care of myself." 

"That sounds exactly like Sandburg," Simon agreed readily. 

"He's coming back," Jim stated leaving no room for argument. 

"You love him," Simon shot back as if it suddenly registered. 

Jim looked at him with bewildered eyes. "Of course, I love him, Simon. There's no question of that." 

"I should pull you off the streets," Simon gruff voice rasped. 

Mortified, Jim admitted, "I'll be okay, Simon. I don't use the senses much at work." 

Simon eyed his detective warily, unconsciously measuring him to departmental standards before turning away. 

Jim smiled, before joking, "your Captain's showing, Simon." 

Laughing, Simon shook his head. "Ah hell, Ellison," he blustered, a bit flustered at being caught so easily. 

"Look, I won't lie to you, Simon," Jim started before catching the Captain's gaze and holding it. "The last three months have been the hardest of my life." 

Simon was amazed at the depth of the man before him. So many things had tried to destroy this man. "You're a better man than I," he muttered unconsciously. 

"No," Jim responded, his eyes gleaming, "but...I am a better cook." 

* * *

"Here's the Sevick file, Simon," Jim stated, placing the file in his Captain's waiting hand. 

Simon flipped through the first few pages. "Nice work, Detective," he praised closing the file and putting it on the enormous stack of other files he needed to sign off on. 

Jim turned to go, "Hey, Jim," the Captain's brusque voice stopped him. 

"Yeah?" Jim paused and turned around. 

"Well, we're going out after shift to celebrate Taggert's birthday. I'm hoping you'll come with," he invited hesitantly. 

Jim sighed deeply, "I'm fine, Simon. A little tired, but I'm fine." 

"That's not what I asked, Jim. I _asked_ if you wanted to go to Taggert's birthday celebration," Simon corrected. 

"So did Joel and Rafe and Henri and Connor and Rhonda and...Do I really need to go on with this list?" Jim asked amusedly. 

Simon exhaled, "Your friends miss you, Jim." 

"I know. I told them I would come. I think they keep asking to make sure I haven't changed my mind," Jim conceded shrugging. 

"Yeah, well, you've missed poker the last six months. What do you expect? No one misses poker, Jim. You know that. They're detectives. They were bound to figure it out," Simon cajoled mercilessly. 

Jim actually laughed outright. "Right. Next time remember that I'm working with detectives," he delivered the line stoically, his expression hinting at a smile, then he returned to work. 

* * *

"Happy Birthday, Joel," Jim said slapping the larger man on the back and handing him a small gift. 

Taggert snickered. "You remembered," he added. 

"Kinda hard not to when every detective and beat officer, not to mention captain reminds you the entire day," Jim growled playfully. 

At Joel's dubious expression, Jim added, "I'm glad I came." Then closing his eyes finished his thought. "It's good to be with friends." 

* * *

Letting himself into the loft, he was shocked at the lateness of the hour. He hadn't spent this much time away from home since Blair had left six months ago. Tiredly, he placed his keys in the basket and headed toward the shower to wash away the smoke, remnants of a pleasant night spent at a bar celebrating Joel's birthday. 

Disrobing, he turned on the water, a tad hotter than usual and stepped under the spray almost eagerly. He could feel every molecule of nastiness from the day on his skin and the bar had only increased that feeling exponentially. 

Closing his eyes, he leaned against the wall and thought of Blair. Unwittingly, tears formed in his eyes and he let them go to be washed away with the water pelting his weary body unforgivingly. 

He washed by rote, his mind too exhausted to really take the time to relax and let his emotions go. Groaning with sorrow, he turned off the water and stepped from the shower. 

His towel clutching his hips, he stepped into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water to take upstairs. 

"Wow," the disembodied voice came at him from the darkness. 

"Blair?" He whispered, hoping that his imagination wasn't playing tricks on him. "Yes, it's me," Blair sighed, taking in the magnificent sight before him. "I missed you," he gasped, his emotions getting the better of him. 

Jim looked into the face barely illuminated in the darkness. "I missed you, too," his quiet calmness floated to his wayward Guide. "Let me toss something on and I'll be right back," he started, then turned to add, "Please stay." 

Blair's heart nearly broke at the request and he sat down on the sofa awaiting the return of his Sentinel. 

* * *

Jim started down the stairs, his senses opening up one by one with the presence of his Guide. "Do you want some tea?" he rasped, trying unsuccessfully to quiet his nervousness upon Blair's return. 

Blair nodded, then replied softly, "that'd be great, man." 

Continuing on into the kitchen, Jim took down the decaf calming tea he'd taken a liking to since Blair had left. 

"Calming tea?" Blair asked, causing Jim to nearly jump out of his skin. 

Jim nodded once, before trusting his voice. "Um, yeah. Ben suggested that I drink this at night along with the supplement," Jim finished in explanation. 

Blair cocked his head to the side, intently listening to the words flowing from the man he had missed so dearly. 

"Ben?" he asked in hesitation. "Wait a minute! Did you say supplement? Jim you know that crap screws up your senses..." he faded out with the realization that as his Sentinel's Guide, leaving may have caused more problems than he had originally thought. 

Jim interrupted his thoughts. "Nah, it's been okay. I haven't really been using them and Ben thought the Kava would help." 

Blair nodded, then asked the question he feared. "Who's Ben?" Blair inquired, his heart in his throat. 

"Ben's my doctor," Jim answered sincerely before ushering the younger man to the couch with a cup of tea in his hand. 

Settling onto the sofa, the two men turned toward each other afraid to move too quickly. 

"Some things have changed since you left, Blair. I have a lot to tell you, but it'll keep. How have you been?" Jim asked as he took in every facet of his Guide, once again sending his senses reeling out toward the young former anthropologist. Blair smiled tentatively at the redirection. "It was hard at first, but it gets better everyday," he started, his hands gesturing familiarly. 

Jim watched him intently, his eyes misting. Clearing his throat, he stated, "Chief. We have a lot to talk about. So, maybe we should set some ground rules." 

"Wouldn't have it any other way, man," Blair gasped, a chuckle of amusement escaping his mouth. 

"I only have two rules. First, we take it slow and second..." Jim paused, looking away. "Second, Blair we have to be honest with each other. It's time to put the chips on the table. See if we can make this work...together," he choked out, vainly trying to control his emotional responses. 

"I think you're right. Actually, I know you are. It's way passed the time to be honest with each other...as well as ourselves," Blair admitted as he stroked Jim's thigh, suddenly unable to meet his lover's eye. "I'm sorry that I had to leave you to get to that place," Blair confided quietly. 

Jim smiled a soft sad smile. "I know, Chief," he whispered, his voice shadowed with emotion, as he reached trembling tentative fingers forward to touch his lover's face and meet his troubled gaze. 

Sighing, Blair leaned into the touch before pulling away. "First things first, Jim..." 

"The anger's gone," Jim stated factually. "I can no longer feel it pushing you away from me." 

Blair nodded. "Yes, love. The anger is gone. Anger with you, anger with Alex....anger with myself," he added as an afterthought. 

"How?" Jim asked, his eyebrows arched thoughtfully. 

Blair paused a moment to gather his thoughts together. He wanted to make sure Jim understood. "Time. Distance. Love. God, Jim. There were so many things fueling the fire that once I walked away from them all...well...it was like I gained some perspective. Clarity. You know what I mean?" Blair questioned, his blue eyes searching the thinner face before him. "You've lost some weight." 

Jim shrugged, answering, "yeah, I guess I have. It's been a long six months, Blair." 

Blair agreed, his face open. "yeah, it really has. You doin' okay?" 

"You leaving again?" Jim asked in response, his breath held in anticipation of the answer. 

"No. I'm finally home, big guy. If its just the same to you, I'd rather stay here," Blair reasoned. 

Jim unconsciously exhaled the breath trapped within him. Unable to control the well of emotion springing up within him, Jim turned his face toward the balcony doors. 

"It's okay, Jim. I'm back," Blair promised as he slid closer to his Sentinel and turned the man's emotion ridden face back toward his own. "I'm back," he repeated firmly, his hands soothing pain that had grown for the past six months. 

Blair sighed and asked his question again, this time determined to receive an answer. "Are _you_ okay, Jim?" _I need to know the answer to this one._

Jim turned his head to kiss Blair's palm before standing up and pacing toward the balcony doors. 

Drawing a painful breath, he began, "After you left, I had some problems..." 

"Man, I knew..." Blair started worriedly only to be interrupted by his Sentinel upraised hand. 

"Blair, I need you not to talk, not because I don't want to know what you're thinking, but because I can't get through this if there's any interruptions. I just can't," he explained with pained blue eyes. 

Blair nodded and shut his mouth for Jim to continue. 

"When you left, my problems weren't from the senses. They were from me. I know you made a few house rules of your own before leaving, one solid meal a day, no working if the senses were spiking, take care of myself; I really did try to follow those. I ate every day and I...well I didn't have as much trouble with spikes as I did headaches." 

Blair winced at this new information, but kept his mouth shut firmly. 

"I couldn't even tell Simon until a little over three months had gone by. I missed you so much that sleeping became difficult and I started having trouble keeping the food I was eating down, so Simon dragged me to an old friend of mine," Jim continued, his tone soft, caught up in the retelling, he paced back toward the couch and gave Blair a wary smile. 

"Ben Magliettie was in one of my military units. He left the service to practice medicine and apparently set up his practice right here in Cascade. He gave me the supplements so I could get some sleep and keep the headaches tolerable," Jim paused, looking agape at Blair, then taking his face in his hands. "Blair, look at me. I'm not telling you this to make feel like shit. You were right, we both needed to find ourselves. Without the time and distance, I would never have felt how much I need you....how much I truly love you...how I never, ever want us to be parted like that again," he gasped, holding his beloved's gaze. 

"We...needed...it," Blair choked out, tears streaming down his face. 

Jim smiled through his own tears. "Yeah, baby. We did," he huffed out with a triumphant gasp, pulling Blair firmly into his arms, until they had both calmed down a bit. 

Blair shifted to rest his head over the older man's heart. "God I love the sound of your heart, Jim," Blair admitted as he caressed the skin covering his Sentinel's heart. 

"I love you too," Jim responded moments later, his body tensing with the physical contact, his senses beginning to reel out of control until he firmly reset his dials to their normal settings. 

Blair ran gentle fingers over Jim's pectoral muscles, trying to quiet the man's obvious discomfiture. "This okay?" He verified before moving any further. 

Jim nodded soundlessly. His voice trapped momentarily by the flood of emotions washing over him. "Yeah," he croaked. "Sorry, nobody's touched me in awhile...except for when I was zoned." 

"What?" Blair shot up in his arms. "You haven't zoned in...I don't know...like years, man. It was one of the reasons that I knew it'd be okay to leave for awhile," he rationalized, his guilt at leaving his lover compounded by this newest truth. 

"Don't," Jim breathed, drawing his lover close to him once again. "It only happened a few times," he reassured the younger man, drawing the fingers of one hand through the tangled auburn curls as the other caressed his lips in an effort to stop Blair's worry. 

"It's not important. You're back and before you go all analytical with the need to figure it out ..." He started, then interrupted himself, placing a tender kiss on his partner's willing, if not a bit startled, mouth. 

Blair moaned out his worry as he melded into the heat that Jim Ellison was providing him, then pulled away slightly gasping for breath. "Breathe, Blair," he mumbled to himself, then looked up sharply when Jim chuckled. 

"What?" Blair asked, his face a mask of confusion. 

Jim smiled knowingly. "I've been saying that for the past six months. It's kinda become a...a mantra," Jim responded in subdued tones. 

"I'm sorry..." Blair started only to be stopped by a heavy, yet tender, hand upon his mouth. 

"No," Jim demanded. 

"No?" His younger partner questioned, his eyebrows draw together, eyes slightly glazed. 

Jim shook his head, tears building in his stormy blue eyes. "No more," he answered his awestruck partner, rubbing his cheek affectionately. "No more apologies, no more avoidance, no more obfuscations. Just us," Jim whispered. "Just us, together. Trying to get through the storm. Trying to still breathe." 

Blair gasped at his lover's quiet words, before nodding his assent. "Just us. Trying to still breathe," he breathed in agreement, tears breaking through and streaming down his angular face. 

"I love you, Blair," Jim gasped through his emotions. 

Blair smiled. "I love you, Jim," Blair replied, his hands caressing the sides of the bigger man's face. 

"You know we still have a lot to talk about?" Jim asked. 

"Yeah," Blair agreed. "But now...well, Jim. Now we have the rest of our lives to work it out." 

Jim's eyes flashed with love as he drew his lover into his warm embrace and held him close to his heart, listening to the man's steady heart beat, but mostly...feeling them both... still breathing. 

* * *

End Breathing by Lady Crimsyn: ladycrimsyn@fastmail.fm  
Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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